Abashed the Devil stood
by Justaburntkid90
Summary: She was to me, all the things that everyone said she was. But unlike everyone else, I didn't hate her for it. Quite the opposite in fact. I mean anyone could love an angel but it took something extraordinary to love the devil. Alison and Emily meet when Emily transfers to Rosewood. Following their first meeting, what does the future have in store for them? And are they ready for it


**Abashed the Devil stood**

_I discovered my love of PLL quite recently and it was swiftly followed by a love of Emison! This is my first attempt at PLL fanfiction so please drop me are view and let me know what you think. _

Introduction

The thing you have to know about Alison DiLaurentis, is that everything about her was deliberate. From the smirk adorning her cupid bow lips to the flirtatious raise of a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Every tendril of her of blonde hair curled to perfection, every piece of clothing painstakingly picked out to cling to her lithe body. Everything about her was a visual odyssey created to invite you in. A common misconception about Alison is that she hid the more undesirable traits she acquired over the years, her penchant for lying, her aptitude for manipulation and coercion behind carefully constructed walls. But, as is usually the case, people were wrong. Deep down, everyone knew exactly who Alison was, exactly what she was. They were just willing to look past it when they saw those azure blue eyes. And that's what annoyed people the most. Their own failure to admit that after millions of years of evolution, innumerable discoveries made by mankind, milestones met and exceeded, one immutable truth still remained. The whole world could still be brought to its knees by a smile from a beautiful woman. After all, Helen of Troy launched a thousand ships and she didn't have to utter a single word to do it. Alison was a master of nonverbal warfare. She knew a skilfully placed hand on an unsuspecting arm, or a coy smile given to the right person at the right moment could prove more powerful than any nuclear warhead. And it was that knowledge that Alison used to bring me to my knees.

I first met Alison when I was 14 years old, a naïve freshman enrolled at Rosewood High, following my dad's redeployment to Philadelphia. I hadn't grown in to myself at that stage, my awkward limbs too long for my body, only managing to be graceful when I was cutting a swathe through the water. The only good thing about moving to Rosewood was that they had a renowned swim team, which I hoped to become a part of. They'd been State Champions for the past 3 years and their Head coach was known for taking good swimmers and making them exceptional. Looking back now, I can't help but feel like that was what Alison was trying to do with me. You see back then I was a good liar, but Alison wanted to make me an extraordinary one.

As I stumbled down the hall, my English book fell from my grasp. When I reached down to pick it up, I was confronted by a pair of smooth legs, ending in a pair of stylish blood red heels that I refused to believe could be comfortable or easily manoeuvred by anyone who hadn't had years of practice. I found my curiosity piqued. As I looked up. I caught a nose full of expensive perfume, Chanel if my suspicions were correct. My dad had bought my mom a bottle when he'd broke the news to her that he was being deployed on a third tour of Afghanistan. My mom let me borrow it from time to time, but warned me to use it sparingly, or else the cost of it would be taken out of my allowance for the next 10 years. I looked up into blue eyes framed with blonde hair. She was stunning, but in the kind of way that let you know she chose to look this good. Like, if she wanted to, she could be beautiful in whatever way you found appealing. As though she could be anything to anyone. It was mesmerising. In a way, it seemed as though she would still be beautiful without make up, just in a different way. Most girls wore make up to hide marks and blemishes, but this girl seemed to be hiding something else entirely behind her concealer mask.

"Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss" Her words, honey sweet and thick, snapped me from my musings. She seemed to be talking to me but I had yet to respond. "Excuse me?" The words stumbled from my mouth. "You're book, Paradise Lost? It's a quote from it. You should probably read it at some point if you plan of passing Mr Fitz's English class." I noticed that she was pointing towards the book I had dropped and noticed that it was in fact the copy of Paradise Lost I had been assigned for English class. Feeling my confidence grow, if only slightly, I decided to play the game with her. "What makes you think I wasn't just feigning not knowing what you were talking about to lull you in to a false sense of security before coming top of the class in English this year". I smirked at her, enjoying our verbal sparring. She returned my smirk, making it seem much more seductive than I could ever manage. "That could be it, but this is your first day at this school, how could you possibly know whether or not I was going to be in your English class. Unless you're clairvoyant, which I highly doubt because a psychic would have been able to read my mind and see that I was quoting Paradise Lost." The rapid fire thought process of this beautiful stranger baffled me. She spoke so confidently, so assuredly, as though every word came straight from God's lips to her ears and she proceeded to grace the rest of the world with them. I found her certainty intimidating. The only thing I had ever been sure of in my life was that I was gay, and even that surety only came after years of internal struggle. She took a step closer to me, proffering her hand in the process. "I'm Alison. It's nice to meet you Emily." I could tell from the deliberate way that she'd said my name that it was a power play, a way to throw me off guard, by letting me know that she knew my name without me having already told her. She could tell from the look on my face the conclusion that I had come to. "Don't worry, I'm not clairvoyant either, it's just written on the front of your notebook." I had spent so long looking for convoluted methods by which she could have acquired my name that I had overlooked the most obvious one. When she finished speaking, she dropped my hand, which I hadn't even noticed she had been shaking. As she withdrew, I couldn't help but miss the warmth of her small, delicate hand in mine. With that, our interaction was seemingly over because she turned on her stylish heel and walked away, leaving me in the hallway confused, frustrated, but above all intrigued as to when I was going to see the blonde haired, blue eyed stranger again.

_That's the intro done folks, let me know if you think I should continue! _


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